


Closer

by L122YTorch (orphan_account)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Claustrophobia, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 18:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/L122YTorch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim realizes that he isn't exactly fond of extremely tiny, pitch black, dark places. He panics, which is obviously illogical and Spock decides to distract Jim the only way he can think of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They’d only been in the cramped, dark space for a few minutes, but it was starting to feel like an eternity to Jim. 

Jim and Spock had boarded an alien vessel in a negotiation attempt, and things went sour way too fast. Rather than cause casualties, which was never their intention, Spock yanked Jim into this tiny space and shut the door behind him.

Immediately Jim’s heart began to fly in his chest, his palms were glossed in sweat and he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

"We should remain here until the Enterprise can beam us aboard," Spock said in a whisper. But Kirk couldn’t concentrate. He tried willing himself to calm down, but to no avail. He felt excruciatingly aware of his heart, of his breathing, of his body.

"Spock," Jim croaked.

"What’s wrong?" Spock replied immediately. 

God, Jim felt like such a pussy. “I uh…I think I might be a little claustrophobic,” he said, his breath rushing in and out of his lungs quickly.

"To fear this space is illogical," Spock replied. "You are in no immediate danger by being contained in a small space." 

Spock’s voice was smooth and steady, and in that moment, Jim would have given anything to feel that sense of calm. 

"I know it doesn’t make sense Spock…it’s just…I…" Jim sputtered, he felt ice cold panic pour down his spine like a bucket of water thrown on his nerves. Get out, get out, get out was all he could think.

"We must remain here captain," Spock said in response to his thoughts. That’s right…their feet were touching…touch telepath.

Jim gulped, his desert throat stuck to itself uncomfortably. “Spock…” he couldn’t believe he was saying this. “Can I touch you.” “We are already touching.” “More…can I touch you more?”

Spock barely had formed the word “yes” when Jim’s hand reached out to him, it grabbed a fistful of blue science uniform at Spock’s abdomen, and his body pulled much closer against Spock’s.

Spock was the one beginning to feel uncomfortable with his captain’s body pressed up against his. Jim stuck his face into the crook of Spock’s neck and the Vulcan realized how quick Jim’s heartbeat was, how rapid his breathing.

"I’ve heard that distraction is a good means in which to dispel a panic attack," Spock offered in the dark. Jim squeezed his eyes shut hard. He could feel the walls coming up on either side of him, the door latched behind him. 

His mind raced for ways to become distracted, but was coming up blank. 

He reached his hand up in the dark and it landed on the side of Spock’s face. He still felt like a boa constructer was wrapped around his chest. He was still panicked, his hands cold, fingers tingling.

His mind was a raging torrent of thoughts all focused on his body, on how he felt, on how he breathed, on how chalkboard black the space was around them. But the thoughts came to a screaming halt when Spock’s bottom lip brushed his top lip.

He had missed a little, but he was kissing Jim. And in that moment everything went silent in Jim’s mind as the kiss he had imagined so many times came to fruition.

Spock pulled back just a hare, Jim’s breath was more even, slower. 

"You have imagined kissing me before," the science officer spoke, nearly into Jim’s mouth. The captain was grateful that Spock couldn’t see his face or read his emotions…in here they were equal.

"Yes," he said, lips pressed up against Spock’s. The Vulcan was hesitant to let Jim continue kissing him when he felt the gravity of the importance of the act bleeding through Jim’s skin. His shields were up but lust slipped through them like steam through a siv.

It lit his desire on fire, and it scared him just how much he was being affected. But he couldn’t think of these things as Jim’s tongue pressed insistently against his mouth, seeking entrance. He let his jaw drop and tasted Kirk, whose arousal was now painfully obvious against his thigh. 

Jim moaned into Spock’s skilled mouth and his hips jerked involuntarily forward. 

The swirling light that began to form around both of them came as a shock to the senses. It made Jim’s eyes hurt. He and Spock both took a step back and then their forms were erased from the tiny black space.

The lights shining above them in the transport room were blinding, he kept his eyes shut tight. And when he opened them, Spock was standing in front of him, facing him, barely a foot away, with his perfectly expressionless expression.

Jim on the other hand looked as if he just came in from the cold. His hands shook a little, his cheeks and neck were bright red, his lips were parted and his eyes were a bright shout of blue. He looked at Spock.

Jim’s pupils were adjusting to the light and had nearly been swallowed up by the sky blue of his irises. Spock regarded his appearance, their closeness, and took a few steps back, turning as he did.

"Aye take it tha negotiations didunt go well," Scotty mused.

"You could say that," Jim responded, taking a wobbly step off the transporter. 

"Ahr you aarite sir?" Scotty said turning towards him, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

Jim gulped, clasped his hands in front of him to hide his erection and evened out his tone before saying, “yeah Scotty, I’m fine… Thanks for getting us off that ship,” he smiled but it felt like plastic. 

It was in that moment that Uhura came rushing into the room. “Are you two okay?” she asked, brown eyes wide in panic. “We’re fine,” Jim said, looking over at Spock, staring into that molten gaze.

He never should have looked at Spock. He was certain that his face was a perfect display of unadulterated lust. 

He took a breath in, but it felt shaky. “Well…back to work,” he said, turning from his audience and disappearing out the door.

——

(Not that I have time to write more…but…) Should it be a full fanfic?


	2. Chapter 2

Kirk knew he should give the "incident" some time to…I don't know… gel? He should put some distance between he and Spock while processing what happened in that tiny, cavernous hell hole. But he couldn't think straight.

There were just about a thousand questions clawing at his mind, burning in his chest. How could they just get back to work? Like nothing happened?

For the time being, Jim swallowed it down, resumed his seat in the Captain's chair and tried to get his ship out of hostile alien territory. It wasn't easy, they were being flanked and pursued by the creatures' more than capable ships. 

"Stop the ship," Jim said after a few failed evasion attempts. The promise of home reached out in the black expanse of space beyond them, but they simply couldn't reach it, and they were taking fire. The Enterprise was simply too large to escape the alien ships that whizzed around them with exceptional speed and torque. 

As soon as the word left his lips, he felt questioning eyes fall upon him. Were they questioning his judgement? Was he?

Instead of trying to pronounce the complicated foreign word, Jim simply asked Uhura if she spoke the language, to which the answer was 'affirmative.' 

"Pull up communications, I want their captain on the screen," he stood and took a few steps toward the large viewing window that was morphing into a vid screen. A familiar humanoid face appeared before them. 

The gurbly, gug, garbeldy goop that the alien spoke, translated into "you have gravely insulted us." 

"That was never our intention Skarleek," Jim relayed to Uhura, who typed in the translation. "But just because we do not agree on a negotiation, doesn't mean we need to start a war."

Foreign words slipped out of the screen's translator, and the alien looked contemplative for a split second as his double eyelids glided over his glossy black eyes. He looked like those earth drawings of aliens from hundreds of years ago. It raised a lot of questions...

"I understand that your resources are precious to you, Leader Skarleek. So instead of wasting them on us, we…ask your permission…to return to Star Fleet with an amended version of the negotiation terms," Jim looked over expectantly at Nyota as he finished the sentence. 

Furiously she typed translations for both sides and Jim heard his own words mangled and in the foreign tongue. The language sounded like the grumblings Jim's stomach made on Tarsus IV. It was a gurgling and a churning that made him feel ill just hearing it.

He became briefly concerned at the pissed look on the alien's face as the noise came to a stop.

After a charged moment, Skarleek said, "we will draft the amendment to your negotiations and allow you to return to Earth and present the new terms to Star Fleet."

"Very well," Jim replied, nearly breaking beneath the weight of his own broken pride. The whole situation was a giant cluster-fuck. 

The alien leaned in closer to the monitor, "do not cross us," the translation came through after a quick moment of speech from the alien. Then the screen dissolved, returning to the view of the yellow/green planet. 

"Their ships are retreating sir," Checkov said. "Take down our shields," he replied.

Jim lowered his head and wondered which would be worse…the heat he'd get from Starfleet at this huge mess with the Florkanians, or the heat he'd take when Nyota found out that he and Spock…I mean…it's Uhura…clearly she would find out.

"Sir, the revised terms have been sent to us," Uhura said. "Good," Jim replied, rubbing his forehead, please translate it as soon as possible. And Sulu..." the man in the gold shirt swung around. "Yes?" "Get us the hell out of here." "Yes sir," he said with a sigh of relief. 

At warp six, it'd take them two days to re-enter the milky way, Jim quickly calculated. As he turned, his gaze caught Spock's. Fuckin' Spock…looked like he always does. Unshaken, calm, reserved, cool as a cucumber. 

It made Jim angry. He felt like the contents of his life were just rearranged, and there was Spock…just being Spock. Shame and lust and betrayal and desire burned beneath his heart. He wanted to push those feelings down, to shove them away, but he knew they wouldn't budge. They ripped through his body, danced across the shadows of his features, and buzzed in his hands.

Intently he continued to stare at the science officer. "Spock, can we talk?" Jim said, striding toward him.

"Now is not a conducive time to converse," Spock replied. 

Shock rippled through Jim's face for the smallest moment. "Why the hell not? We're at warp, we will be for at least two days." 

"I'm aware of this," the steady voice continued. "But we need to view the treaty, discuss the terms, file after-action reports…" "Come with me... that's an order commander," Jim grit out. 

The heat of (what felt like) a thousand stares burned across Kirk's body, but scattered like mice as he looked around the bridge. 

Spock acquiesced, rising from his seated position and following Jim out the doors. The captain's mind was racing, all he could feel was fury and he realized that he really didn't have a plan ready for what he was going to say to Spock.

After a good distance, walked in silence, they reached a mainly empty corridor and Jim stopped.

"Captain, I do not see how such a public display of anger could be…" "Shut it," Jim hissed, swinging around to face Spock. "Shut what?" "It means be quiet," Jim positively growled, drawing out the last two words with an intense emphasis.

His mind went blank as surprise flickered for just a moment in Spock's eyes. 

"When I give you an order, you follow it, understand?" 

"Yes captain."

"Good. Dismissed."

Spock knew he was pushing it when he asked "may I speak freely sir?"

Fuck…now he was "sir," he deserved it and he knew it. "Yes."

"I sensed that there was something you wanted to discuss, but you have merely asserted your authority and dismissed me." 

Jim crossed his arms and shifted his weight. He remembered the time he told Uhura that he wanted to rip the bangs right of Spock's head. He felt that way when he summoned Spock here, but his fury was fading.

Jim wasn't answering…each possible answer was like a land mine. He was mentally stepping around them, sorting them out, looking for a suitable response. All he could come up with was, "I did have something I wanted to discuss with you Spock. Perhaps later," he said, turning tentatively, eyeing Spock. 

The Vulcan was too much. The way he stood, the look in his eyes, Jim wanted to punch him and kiss him all at the same time and that really freaked him out. 

After a moment of silence he turned and strolled back down the same hallway he came from.


	3. Chapter 3

Jim let a week go by without having hardly any discussion with Spock. It was the longest, most arduous week in recent memory. Jim wasn't exactly skilled at letting things of this magnitude go. He didn't understand how Spock could just resume work as usual.

Every time he saw Spock he felt arousal. Every time he saw Uhura he felt guilty. Everytime he closed his eyes to go to sleep he was back in that space, feeling the cool foreign body pressed against his. 

He had managed to keep his…desire…for Spock at bay. And in that one singular moment, Spock had ripped apart all of his mental and emotional barriers, laid him raw, and walked away. It drove Jim nuts, he couldn't sleep.

He slapped both of his hands to his face and let out a groan. Throwing his twisted sheets from his body, Jim rose and walked across the small expanse of his dark room. 

The door swooshed open and he walked briskly down the corridor. The cool air felt good against his bare chest and hot thoughts. 

His body guided him towards the rec room without his mind's assistance. He was either going to punch a dummy, or end up punching Spock, so he settled for the dummy.

He didn't like the way it felt against his hand, how the synthetic humanoid flesh reverberated after he struck it. It wasn't solid and gratifying, but it did feel good to enough to quiet the overwhelming feelings of lust and shame.

He hit it until his hands hurt, until his mind felt light and his forehead poured out sweat. His muscles stood out like ribbons beneath his taught gold skin. The sweatpants he was wearing had become unbearably hot, but he didn't care.

He pounded and pounded until he could hear his heartbeat in his head.

When the doors to the rec room swept open, he turned like a cat ready to pounce. 

There, in front of the door was Spock. 

Jim relaxed his stance, stood straight up and ignored the tiny black dots that fuzzed at the corners of his vision. 

"Spock…" he said breathlessly. "Whataryou doing here?" 

Jim's eyebrows furrowed together as he posed the question, his arms formed triangles that came to a rest on his hips. His hands were fire red. His face and chest were dripping sweat that continued to collect in the waistband of his Starfleet regulation sweatpants.

"I was awake," Spock replied. "I heard you leave your quarters and was curious as to where you were heading at 3:46 in the morning."

Kirk looked surprised and amused. "Well look at that," he said, taking strides towards his first officer. "Spock'er the stalker," Jim smiled. Spock cocked his head. "That sounded much catchier in my head than out loud," Jim panted.

"The reason I followed you is because you have been acting…differently this past week. I was simply concerned for your wellbeing captain." "For god's sake Spock, call me Jim." 

Spock shifted his weight and relaxed his stance. "Jim."

Kirk was a sweaty mess, he didn't want to get too close to Spock, but he felt pulled in by the gravity he felt in his first officer's eyes. 

Jim opened his mouth and gathered his breath to speak, but the words fell apart before they could be spoken. He rubbed a sweaty pulsing hand against his chin and tried again. "Spock…" god, this was going to be hard.

"How could you not feel guilty?" Spock looked positively puzzled. "To what are you referring captain?" 

"JIM. And I'm referring to when you kissed me on that…fucking alien ship…" he shook his head and forced the words out. Spock's expression smoothed. "I'm assuming you are referring to a guilt that would be associated with kissing another when already involved in a relationship?" "YES!" Jim gritted out, sweat dripping around his features and sliding into his lips.

"Nyota and I ended our relationship approximately four months ago," the sentence disappeared into the quiet shock it was met with. Jim's mouth hung agape, the sickly salty grit of his own exhaustion coating his tongue. 

"Why didn't you say something Spock?" the captain spoke, as if he was betrayed somehow. "I didn't see how that information was relevant to you."

A blazing red bloomed across Jim's chest, that was rising and falling just as quickly as it was when Spock first entered the room. "Relevant? You let me believe for a week that I had betrayed Uhura's…friendship!" "You were avoiding me captain, I never had the opportunity to tell you."

Jim stood even closer to Spock now, his fists in tight wads, nails digging into hot flesh. 

"Bullshit!" Jim proclaimed. "Even so, you should have told me four months ago!" "Why?" "Because I'm your friend!" Jim practically shouted.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest, pulse thrumming between his ears. He wanted to hit Spock, he wanted to hold Spock, he wanted to tell him everything he thought and felt. It was like he was drowning in a sea of his own sensations, lost amidst a thousand contradictory emotions.

"Are you alright Jim," Spock asked, as the Vulcan eyes swept over the incredibly flushed body. "Fine," Jim lied through his own dizziness. His hands were screaming in agony, his mind was racing. He put his hands back on his hips and turned slightly.

"Why did you kiss me Spock?" there, he said it.

There was the tinniest moment of silence after the question was asked, but in it Jim could feel the weight of all of the possible things that could come out of Spock's mouth.

"I kissed you to distract you from the panic attack you were experiencing. I read once that it could regulate breathing and deescalate hyperventilation."

Jim's body stilled as the science officer spoke. He gulped, suddenly hyperaware that they were standing less than a foot from one another. His blue eyes scanned the limited space around them looking for some answer that wasn't there.

"Is that the only reason?" he ventured…rather boldly. "Yes," Spock replied almost instantly. 

It took Spock a moment to realize why it was that Jim's features fell, and by the time he did, Jim had his back to him, he reached for water and took a large swig out of the bottle. With a gasp and a pop he pulled the bottle away from his lips and turned back around to face Spock…or at least…walk past him out the door.

Turning around and grabbing that water was all he could do to not verbalize his disappointment.

"Jim…" Spock started. 

"G'nite Spock," Jim said, giving him a clap on the solder and disappearing out the door. What Jim failed to remember as he gave that friendly pat, is that the Vulcan is a touch telepath; a touch telepath that wasn't expecting to be touched, who didn't have his shields up.

Such a stranglehold of disappointment, loneliness, desire and desperation flooded through him in that instant, that he felt as though he had an inability to breathe. The emotions exploded into a torrent of thoughts that echoed in his mind, reverberating like a phaser being fired in a metal room.


End file.
